Assumptions
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Cormac has to be cheating on Romilda. There's absolutely no other way to explain his disappearances.


_Herbology, task 2: write about a secret _

_Word: 1326_

Romilda catches Cormac as soon as he hurries down the stairs. She offers him her brightest smile and reaches out, resting a perfectly manicured hand on his chest "Not sneaking off again, are you?" she asks, batting her long lashes. "That's the third time this week."

She doesn't mention last week, or the week before that, or the week before that, or… Ever since the beginning of the school year, Cormac has disappeared for hours at a time without any explanation or warning.

It shouldn't bother her. A relationship is meant to be about trust, after all. Still, it hurts that he's keeping secrets and running around, refusing to let her know anything.

"Sorry, love." He takes her hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I really must dash. I've, er…"

Romilda tips her head to the side, dark brows raising. "You what?" she asks, hating the way he stammers and pauses. That isn't like him; Cormac is supposed to be confident and bright.

He doesn't seem to have an excuse ready. With a nervous chuckle, he pushes a hand through his hair, ruffling the honey-blond curls. "We'll catch up later," he says, pecking her lips quickly. "I've really got to run."

Before she can protest, he's gone. Romilda stares at the spot he had stood only moments before, her lips twisting into a scowl. Part of her wants to chase after him, but she knows it won't accomplish anything. Her emotions are too high right now, and she can only make things worse if she acts on impulse.

With a huff, she stalks across the common room and sits across from Demelza. Her best friend is too absorbed in her essay to even acknowledge her. Romilda waits, tapping her nails against the table impatiently.

"Hang on," Demelza grumbles, pausing only long enough to dip her quill in ink. She resumes writing within seconds.

"Do you think Cormac is cheating on me?"

That seems to capture Demelza's attention. Her hand jerks, leaving a streak of black across the parchment. She doesn't even bother to fix her mistake. "Is he _what_?" she asks, her eyes fixed upon Romilda now. "Are you being serious?"

Ordinarily, Romilda might laugh it off and admit to being silly. Not today. She's spent months worrying about this and hating herself for the ugly jealousy that takes over. She folds her slender arms over her chest and leans back in the overstuffed chair. He's been acting pretty suspicious lately," she reasons.

Demelza scrubs her ink-stained fingers over her face in thought. She leaves behind dark smudges on her olive skin, but she doesn't seem to notice. "He loves you," she says simply, like that's enough.

A dry laugh escapes Romilda's lips. "My uncle loved my aunt," she says. "That didn't stop him from sleeping with other women. His love didn't soften the blow of his betrayal."

"Cormac isn't like that." But the doubt is so clear in Demelza's voice.

Her mind is probably where Romilda's is. They have both seen Cormac in action. His bright blue eyes and perfect dimples are enough to make anyone fall at his feet. Worse still, flirting comes so natural for him. What if he hadn't even meant to flirt with this mysterious girl? What if one thing had lead to another, and now they're stuck in some pattern of infidelity?

"Damn," Demelza says, seeming to reach the same conclusion Romilda has.

"Damn," Romilda echoes with a sigh.

"What are you going to do?"

Romilda slumps forward and shakes her head. "What _can _I do?" she asks. "He isn't even subtle about it."

Demelza is silent for several moments. She purses her lips, exhaling heavily and returning her attention to her essay. "There might be a way," she says.

Romilda tugs anxiously at her dark hair, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "Okay." She nods, though she isn't completely convinced just yet. "What do you have in mind?"

…

Demelza pokes her head in the dormitory. "He's just climbed through the portrait hole," she reports. "The eagle is on the move."

Romilda snorts, dark eyes rolling. "Eagle?" she asks, climbing to her feet.

"Muggle films," Demelza says, gesturing wildly to hurry her along. "Go, go, go!"

Romilda picks up her pace. They've spent four days planning this strike and waiting for Cormac to sneak off again. She refuses to miss her chance now. It takes less than a minute for her to sprint down the stairs and climb through the portrait hole.

Following him isn't easy. Cormac pauses and looks around too much, and Romilda finds herself constantly having to dart behind the nearest object and pray she can blend in.

At least he has the decency to be nervous. His guilty conscience must be getting to him.

They approach the Transfiguration corridor, and Cormac begins to walk with more confidence. He lingers outside a classroom for a few seconds before knocking. The door opens, and Professor McGonagall greets him.

Romilda feels sick. It's bad enough that Cormac is cheating on her, but with McGonagall? Her body flushes with heated anger, and her vision swims. What the hell sort of school is this? McGonagall is supposed to be their professor!

All thoughts of subtlety and stealth are gone. Only a complete lunatic would sit back and let this sort of thing happen. Holding her head high, she rushes forward, throwing open the door. "Get your hands off my boyfriend, you old hag!" she screams.

The anger fades almost immediately, and it feels like ice has flooded her veins. Cormac sits at a table near the front, wand in hand. Before him is a poorly-Transfigured cactus that still has a mouse tail. McGonagall sits at her desk, emerald eyes wide with confusion.

"Miss Vane!" The older woman is on her feet in an instant. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh no…"

Cormac watches, jaw dropping and eyes widening in horror. His cheeks glow a deep red that looks almost painful.

"I am so sorry." She covers her face with her hands, as if that's enough to make her disappear on the spot. "I am so, so sorry."

"Detention, Miss Vane."

…

"Why didn't you tell me you were taking remedial lessons?" Romilda asks as she and Cormac sit together by the fireplace.

"It's embarrassing." He rests his head against her shoulder. "Do you know how great my uncle is at Transfiguration? And don't even get me started on my dad! If they found out I was failing, I would become the family laughingstock."

"Oh."

Silence hangs between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire as they leap and dance, blackening the wood in the grate. Romilda leans back, closing her eyes.

"I'm an idiot," she says.

Cormac laughs. He brushes his fingers over her stomach, and Romilda can't help but smile. "At least you're a cute idiot," he tells her, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She sits up straight again, scowling slightly as she prods her finger against his chest. "If _you _hadn't kept it a secret, I wouldn't have assumed."

"And if _you_ would have just trusted me, you wouldn't have accused a teacher of sleeping with a student."

Romilda clears her throat. She doubts she will ever live that down. To make matters worse, a portrait in the corridor had witnessed the whole ordeal. It had taken only a few hours for the entire school to hear about it.

"Fair," she concedes, shrugging. "We both could have found better ways to go about that."

He nods his agreement and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. "Don't worry," he says, grinning broadly. "The only old woman for me is your future self."

"Shut up."

At least things are back to normal. There are no more secrets, no more suspicions, only love and the promise of a bright future together.


End file.
